


Reflections of Fate.

by taiketsuenmi



Category: Okamiden
Genre: AU, Character Revival, Gen, Mentions of Waka, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:06:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiketsuenmi/pseuds/taiketsuenmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to get by when your reflection reminds you of the bitter truths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections of Fate.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ficlet thing I've posted here. It was done as a request on twitter/tumblr by my good friend Miren with the prompts Mirror and Manipulation. Set Post-Okamiden where Kurow dies but is revived, part of a much more complicated AU/Crossover thing.

He sees his reflection and wonders if this is what that man looks like. The reflection that stares back at him from the gently flowing water of the canals of Sei’an doesn’t give him an answer and all he can see is a frown etching itself on his no-longer-so-childish features.

He runs his hands through his hair, messes up his bangs– it hardly makes him feel better but it’s all he can do to separate himself from a man he’s never seen once in his life– but he knows, deep down he knows he’s the spitting image of. And he’s bitter and still hurting from something that happened almost eighteen years ago. He only knew the man’s name, they’d never even met the man– he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse– but that bastard, the one who gave him life in the first place, never even bothered to look back at the doll they tossed onto this planet.

Hell, did he even know Kurow was still alive from where he was up in the realm of the gods?

Did that obnoxious prophet know the bitter irony of how the doll in his image had taken his place in the mortal realm watching over the newest queen (she was a dear friend, after all, how could he deny her request?) and mindlessly doing paperwork until the next sun would rise and Abe– who by now was starting to show his age, would let out a small huff of air and throw an extra layer on top of the passed out man who both was and was not Waka.

…he sighs, shakes his head, presses on, and pushes those thoughts away as best he can. One foot after the other, he walks along the busy streets, his stride forced as if he was trying to outpace something following him from behind. A ghost, or maybe just his shadow.

He knows, deep down, it doesn’t matter. Whether that man was watching him right now, or didn’t even know he was still alive– things would turn out the same anyways. Waka could pull as many strings as he wanted or none at all– fate, as it always did, would have it’s own damn way with him and the rest of the world anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this is my first ficlet, I'm super shy so please be gentle! I'm suuuper nervous posting this here. Also I know it's short but it's just a drabble ficlet...thing.


End file.
